The Gateway Known as Remnant: Of Humans and Machines
by FFG-559 August
Summary: A series of portals have opened up all over Remnant throughout time, spilling different content from multiple different universes. Whoever spills out of those portals is going to make one big impact in the world of Remnant, whether they want to or not. After all, pilots are known to make quite a difference, aren't they?
1. A Note

**A quick note before we begin the story.**

 **The premise of 'A Gateway Known as Remnant' is to be a massive crossover**

 **The list of planned crossovers are as follows:**

 **Titanfall**

 **Call of Duty (Modern Warfare Remastered, MP)**

 **Battlefield (4 and 1, MP)**

 **Halo (Timescale can be set to about Halo Wars)**

 **Space Engineers (Specifically the IMDC faction, but most vessels are highly upgraded in size so it works the other space-bound vessels of the crossover)**

 **Fallout (4. All modded, but not ridiculously so.)**

 **Star Wars: The Clone Wars (Lone Venator crash lands on Remnant)**

 **If you'd like, PM or leave a review of other ideas you might want to add.**

 **(Updated note: I removed some things as they are no longer viable and their purpose null.)**


	2. Ch 1

**Hey guys, August here, with yet another rewrite, and pretty much re-imagining of my story Titans of Remnant. This story is actually going to be part of one big AU. This is just one part of really just a shit-ton of games, Call of Duty, Battlefield, Titanfall, Halo, etc. and other things, all coming to Remnant to ultimately change up certain aspects of the plot. (Which is basically what I end up doing in all of my other stories anyway.)**

 **Oh, and a quick guide.**

 **Bold text at absolute top or bottom of the chapters: Author introduction and/or conclusion**

 **Bold text in these (): Author's note to clarify or something of that sort**

 **Bold text: Something important**

 _Italic text in these ' ': Thoughts,_ _Telepathy_

 _Italic text: text from letters or something of those sort, names of inanimate objects(Examples: Crescent Rose, Gambol Shroud), flashbacks, emphasis_

Normal Text: Normal story

* * *

Grunts.

The most expendable units of both the IMC and Militia. Deployed en' masse in almost every battlefield and nothing more then a nuisance to the infamous 'Pilots'. Quite frankly, SGT. Excel Rodriguez wondered why they were deployed anymore, they should just devote their resources to more of the elite known as Pilots. Then again, He was an IMC groundpounder. It was above his pay-grade to ask those sorts of questions anyhow. Well, it used to be. Now, he was dead.

Demeter.

The place where he died. The final battle. The 'Grand Finale' if you will. Even if the Militia were to win, and the dropships were to come, they would've only picked up the pilots if they were to make it. They would've left all of the grunts behind to suffer against the Militia. He honestly didn't know what would've happened if he was captured by the Militia. They would've probably would've done the same thing the IMC would've done. Tried to squeeze every last bit of information out of them, then most likely shot them, just like the IMC. Maybe they would've asked for the soldier to join them. He remembered receiving an encrypted transmission from an old friend from boot camp that, at that time, received news was captured, but there Anderson was, with a letter and a picture. The picture was of the youth smiling in what seemed to be a prep room before an assault, he was already changed into the armor of the Militia too. The letter read that Excel should defect and join him, call in a few favors and maybe get stuck in the same squad. Of course, the IMC grunt didn't, and as far as he knew, they weren't paid and he wasn't exactly sure if there wasn't a gun pointed at the back of the man's head when he took the picture. However, that's besides the point, he now floated in the inky black that was his mind-numbing existence. He really didn't know what he expected from the afterlife, but he sure as hell didn't know this was what he would now be doing. He was about to repeat his constant cycle of the same thoughts again before he heard distinct whirring. His visor flickered to life as a stream of rolling text temporarily absorbed his vision before being replaced with the words _ENGAGING EMERGENCY REBOOT._ Elements of his HUD appeared, displaying his weapon, his trusty modified Kraber-AP Sniper Rifle, _Distant Fury_ , along with its ammo. His sidearm also showed as well, the rugged B3 Wingman that has served faithfully for a long time. There would be a cold day in Hell when he decided not to bring his babies with him into combat. He could hear flickering and a light suddenly erupted in the center of his vision, blinding him. With not much left he could do, he shielded his eyes.

* * *

Excel awoke in a clearing of soft grass. He could only tell that from his rolled up sleeves of his uniform. He tried to move his head but pain shot up his spine, forcing him to continually stare at the soft blue sky. He didn't care enough to wonder just how he got there, nor how he could feel anything. He was too tired, too pained to think. He wanted to close his eyes, but the flashing red on his minimap told him that would not be happening. From the extremely heavy stomping coming towards him, he could only conclude a single thing. Titan. As soon as that conclusion came to mind, a Stryder-class loomed over him, sporting the dark browns, greens, and oranges of the Militia, casting a shadow over his still form. "Pilot Reefa, this individual's signatures show that he is alive"

The hatch on the front opened and a female pilot crouched on the lower half of the ramp, looking over him, but not speaking. She jumped down after several minutes, and peered closer. Reefa then grabbed Excel by the vest and hauled him into a sitting position on the grass, eliciting a pained gasp form the grunt as blinding pain enveloped the entire upper half of his body, the pilot letting out a mere sigh before clicking a button on the side of soldier's helmet, bringing up the visor, and lightly lowering part of the mask that covered his nose and mouth, then she reached to her belt and unhooked an object from it. A canteen, which she lifted to the barely conscious grunt's mouth and let the water drift down Excel's throat, which he now realized was quite parched. She then pulled it away and hooked it to her belt. She placed her hand on his back and grabbed the front of his vest before slowly hoisting him up on his feet. He stumbled a little before regaining his footing, the pain having just been an extremely short-lived torture, much to his relief. The pilot nodded and she climbed back to the top of the titan and sat inside, the hatch closing. The XO-16 machine gun that was previously hefted onto the right shoulder fell into the left hand of the titan. "Grunt; Pilot Reefa would like you to follow us." The titan spoke with a heavily monotone and robotic male voice **(Think BT-7274)**

"And why should I do that."

"Your odds of surviving are considerably higher if you join us." Just as the machine stated that, gunfire erupted in the distance. There was the signature clank of a 40mm cannon along with the small arms fire of various infantry based weapons. An explosion flowered in the distance, rocking the land as it reached into the sky. Both titan and grunt made their way over in haste, disappearing into the treeline that the grunt just now noticed.

* * *

They made it just in time to see an IMC Ogre hurtle a large black mass _through_ a tree, causing a bloom of dirt and shards to erupt into the air, only to see, what Excel now realized, was a bear-looking creature, get back up again to charge forward only to be transformed into a cloud of red mist courtesy of a 40mm sent its way by the same Titan. Several IMC and Militia Grunts were also dealing with similarly designed creatures, although they were smaller and sleeker, more like a wolf then anything. One of the grunts, a Militiaman, swapped his rifle for a Sidewinder before utterly obliterating the frontline of the creatures. As he ducked behind a slight incline to reload, a creature lunged past, twisting its body to face the grunt as it hit the ground. It was about to perform another lunge to gut the grunt, but the Stryder stomped down on it into a fine paste. Excel took his time, climbing into one of the trees to set up a sniping point. As he reached the canopy, he froze as he found it was already taken by a militiaman, holding a Longbow DMR and already firing it off. "What're still looking at me for?! Go!" The militiaman pointed to the next branch over.

Excel hopped onto the opposite branch before grabbing onto the tree and twisted around, landing his feet squarely on the thick branch. He looked to his left, opposite of the Grunt, and found a camera lazily covered in leaves. It blinked red occasionally, telling it was active. He ignored it, but sincerely hoped they were slaughtering a wildlife preserve or something. He leaned against the tree and took aim from out of the leaves. The situation was looking rather **GRIMM**. More of these creatures were advancing in hoards, and he could see some... _'Wait, are those, giant scorpions?'_

Indeed they were, although they were hindered by their lesser brethren from reaching the grunt's quickly. He could see and even hear the pings as the weapons below couldn't pierce the thick armor. Let's fix that with a **(controlled shock)** AP round. The loud report echoed across the field, temporarily snuffing out the sounds of battle, before they resumed. Excel watched as the AP round barreled its way through the scorpion and out the other end, but somehow was still standing. Another shot made sure that it falls. He aimed for the second out of the three that were there. He fired, cycled the round, and fired again in quick succession, killing another. The last was considerably smarter then the rest, and changed directions for the tree where the shots were coming from, however, it was forced to rethink as it was pelted by the mini-rockets from one of the grunts on the ground. It turned to face the nuisance, only to find it getting a faceful of Titan fist. The Ogre lifted the beast with one hand, and then used its other to stop the massive beast from struggling too much, then using the scorpion to wipe the floor, quite literally, with the rest of the creatures. It then grabbed it by its stinger and lifted it far over its chassis and smashed it into the ground, creating a considerably sized crater with the makeshift club. The Ogre then unhooked its 40mm and aimed the weapon into the head of the creature, before unloading. One thump after another. Soon, a massive hole was in the center of the creature. The creatures they were fighting suddenly gained some sense of self-preservation, fleeing into the trees. Pilot Reefa was handling one last creature, much like that bear-thing from earlier. The Stryder tore it in half and threw it on the floor. One of the grunts on the hill started laughing, slapping the shoulder of one of his peers, who then proceeded to join them, following with all the grunts laughing ground-side. They started chatting with each other as Excel and the other Militiaman climbed down, or jumped. They both noticed that a silence had settled. They looked over and saw the titans facing each other, a tense standoff heavily present. The grunts drifted towards their respectful titans. The IMC grunts to the Ogre, and the militiamen to the Stryder. The Ogre stuck its hand out as a static speaker spoke from the Ogre, "Truce?"

"My Pilot greatly appreciates the proposition and accepts." The Stryder stated, looking at the hand for a few minutes before jerkily reached its hand out and shook it. "What, your pilot can't say it himself?"

"My pilot prefers to be like that for personal reasons, and my pilot is _female_." The Stryder responded, "I suggest we soon find- Contact detected." The Stryder unslung its XO-16 and spun around, aiming at the ship that seemed to come out of nowhere. "Hey, IMC, you been developing some new form of dropship?" One of the militiamen shouted as they drew their weapons.

"No, have you?" The others responded, also aiming at the ship. "Wait, the hell did the bodies go?!" One of the grunts shouted, prompting everyone but the titans to look around and notice the bodies disappeared.

"The fuck?!" The grunts started clammoring, wondering what happened to the corpses, and completely forgetting the dropship hurtling towards them. And they wonder why they were placed so low on the danger list.

By the time the airship hovered over them, the grunts were pointing their weapons in every direction besides the airship that hovered over the, apparently convincing themselves that the attackers were hidden somewhere, watching. A quick shout from the one of the titans brought their attention back to the more immediate threat.


	3. Chapter 2

Pilot Reefa was sat in what looked like an interrogation room. The apparent 'Headmaster', as Ozpin called himself, had left the room momentarily. Her helmet was laid on the table, and she was tenderly rubbing her new appendages placed on top of her head. She was slightly concerned of the fact about the appearance of these new ears, but she simply ignored it until now, where she had time to think upon them. As she ran her fingers over them, she made mental comparisons of the shape of her ears to those of species she knew. They didn't seem to resemble any species of planets she's been on, due to them being furry, but may have some form of connection to other species that originated from Earth, as the ears had the vague shape of some form of domestic pet, and the texture of one as well. After spending several minutes of running her hands through her ears which she figured were the same color as her auburn hair, Reefa sighed and placed her hands on the table,giving up on trying to identify them. There was too little information to accurately identify which species ears were attached to her head, a sentence she thought she'd never even have to think about, but regardless. Headmaster Ozpin had went to get her something called a Scroll, and she doubted it was a piece of paper, given what this world's technology looked like. Then again, they might just do so as of trust issues.

Ozpin did return, with a rod in his hand. He took his seat opposite of her, and pulled the Scroll apart. _Ah, it folds_. She thought idly. The white haired man adjusted his glasses as he tapped the pad. He then placed it on the table, "You seem to be unable to speak, so I have brought out a Scroll for you to use."

Reefa nodded, picking the scroll up and typing in a few quick words to test it before deleting them. She idly went through her options before taking her next move.

 _'How much do you know?'_ she typed, before sliding it across the table. Ozpin picked it up, giving it a quick glance. He set it down. "I do know you and several others appeared in the Emerald Forest and started wreaking havoc on the local Grimm. Mind you, I do pride myself with knowing everything that comes in and out of there, and you seemingly just appeared from out of thin air, or somehow managed to pass by every camera, then suddenly blow your cover with excessively loud gunfire." He leaned forward in his chair, "Coupled with the fact I've never seen that type of armor, I'd say that you are not even from this world. Your 'Titans' are much too advanced for even Atlas, and your confusion shows you don't even know who they are. So please make this easier for the both of us, and pray tell where you come from."

Reefa sat, stoic as ever, but did type, " _I am Pilot Reefa of the 23rd Pilot Company of the Marauder Corps."_ _  
_

"So you and your companions are... Raiders?" Ozpin seemed to tense.

 _"No. While that is our honorary name, many others and I are more commonly referred to as the Militia, we are freedom fighters. Those who are a part of our faction are distinguished from our browns, oranges, and greens. We fight against the IMC, a corporation who was given control over the Frontier. They are highly oppressive and raze and pillage in the name of control and peace. They are distinguished by their white color scheme."_

"What is this 'Frontier'?"

 _"The outer fringes of colonized space."_

"When we were taking in your companions, there happened to be IMC personnel among you, do you mind explaining why you were working with them?"

 _"We were in a dangerous situation that required us to work together. They didn't fire at me, so I didn't fire on them."_

"Even after the oppression their superiors put you and this 'Frontier' through?"

Reefa's ears twitched. he made careful choices in his wording between 'them' and 'their superiors', implying that he thinks the soldiers may be innocent. The simple notion sent a slight twitch of agitation through her right ear, for he didn't know. Maybe she didn't know herself. She may be able to apply this to the Grunts, but not to that Pilot. Pilots knew, and didn't feel the slightest bit of remorse. She'd known, she watched, back before her time in the Militia, a Titan tear through a building on the mere notion of Militia-supporters inside, not sparing anyone as the Pilot got out to personally make sure there was no survivors, not even a child was spared. _"You don't know about their Pilots. They are terrible excuses of people, they are machines and monsters."_ She tapped out furiously.

Ozpin's face remained impassive at the silent rage as he read it. "Though, aren't you a Pilot? You must have experienced the same training to make them that way."

Reefa froze. She didn't give it much thought. Now that she did, she was given much the same respect of a high-ranking official out of fear. They saw her, and those like her, as a remorseless killing machine. Not a person, but as a weapon. She still saw herself above the IMC Pilots, but the notion did make her cringe on the inside. More factors that shown she was far more human then she'd like at times. She decided not to answer. Maybe the only reason she saw herself above them was the reason she was fighting them.

"You did not give it much thought, have you?"

She shook her head solemnly. Ozpin sighed, "I can understand your train of thought of them. You seem to be fighting against them for a good cause, making you think like you are standing on the morale high-ground." There was a buzz and Reefa looked up. Ozpin had his own Scroll out, and his eyes were scanning the text on screen rapidly. "Though, enough of that. Please follow me." Ozpin swiftly stood and headed for the door, with Reefa following close behind, having the helmet hooked to her hip, and wanting to escape from the small confines she was trapped in.

* * *

She followed Ozpin to the cliffs that faced towards the forests she found herself in. It did look beautiful, and hid its dangers extremely well. Rather picturesque, she might add. She might, if things turned out well, come back and paint this all. She liked to paint, it was one of the few non-militaristic things she enjoyed doing, one of the things that kept her human. She looked forward again and noticed a group they were approaching, and the metal pads imprinted on them. She questioned their use, and came to it being some sort of turret that deploys on command. The group was the same she was with earlier, when she was fighting those, quite frankly, demons. Now that she had the time to examine the numbers, there were eleven of people from the Frontier. seven were Militia, and four were IMC, including the Pilot. There was the woman, the one she caught a glimpse of once. While her outfit was... Revealing, she had the air of authority, and Reefa was surprised that none of the Grunts ended up dead from trying anything dirty. The soldiers were chatting amongst themselves idly, some speaking of home and where they came from, others bitched about how humid it was, and mind you, it was, and the Pilot, name she couldn't remember, talking to the witch-woman. She could here him asking of when he'll get his weapons back, and his Ogre, which he insisted on calling O'Malley. Reefa soon also wondered, and stood back to listen in on the conversation.

"Ms.?"

"Glynda, Glynda Goodwitch."

"Yes, Ms. Glynda, I know it may be a valuable-" He was cut off by Ozpin clapping his hands together in a volume much too loud then what Reefa thought the white-haired man was capable of. Everyone turned toward him on a dime, while the IMC Pilot gave his attention by turning his head. "I am here to extend an offer to all of you." This peeked everyone's interest. "I think you all have come to the conclusion that you are not on any world you recognize, and maybe even different galaxies." The soldiers nodded, some more slowly then others, already consenting to the fact they may never get home again. "We aren't in Kansas anymore." A grunt chuckled out quietly, earning a slightly louder chuckle in his compatriot. "I'm here to extend the offer for you to participate in my academy."

Reefa scrunched up her nose in confusion. Academy? She could tell it wasn't just some purely educational bullshit, like colleges back home, but that raised the question what was so special about it that the headmaster would extend an invitation to twelve fully-trained soldiers conditioned to kill, two far more so than the others. She took a quick second to examine the faces of the grunts. Apparently they had more of a rundown on this world than she did, as they all seemed excited at the prospect, or they were happy to be getting free college (She presumed it was college) education. Whichever the case, she was still thoroughly confused over the sudden offer. "While it is sudden, my cameras shown extreme combat prowess, the likes of which this world needs more of. However good as it is, it requires fine-tuning that I am happy to provide to turn you into the finest huntsmen and huntresses." He was taking a lot of risks with this offer. Ozpin didn't seem like a man to make such risks like this carelessly. There was something wrong with this. Something awfully suspicious. She, and everyone else, however, had nowhere else to go. Ozpin was clever, hiding the fake notion of choice when in reality they have none. The majority of the grunts were quick to agree, while three others were hesitant at first, but consented. The IMC Pilot nodded his head after the grunts, and Reefa followed with her own nod. "Good. However, there is one thing I need to assure myself of, please follow me." They quickly fell in behind him, and walked.

* * *

They found themselves in a open room, most likely a garage of sorts. All that was inside, however, were crates upon steel-gray crates, with five separated from the rest and two familiar titans standing behind them. "Pilot Reefa, I presume they treated you well?" Her Stryder Titan asked in its monotone voice, to which she gave a quick nod. The Ogre next to her titan simply held its hand out, which the IMC Pilot slapped and Reefa watched with the slightest amusement as they finished with a fist-bump.

"In this crates are your weapons and ammunition. Please take them." Ozpin instructed, which all eagerly did so.

"Oi, you!" One grunt shouted to another, who turned. "That's an awfully big gun," The grunt pointed to the Kraber rifle the other hoisted, "You compensating for something or what mate?"

"Ay man, fuck off, at least I'm the one who's going to kill something!" The other shot back, swinging the anti-material rifle over his back and grabbing a B3, holstering it as to start storing his ammo in the various pouches on his armor and belt.

"I wouldn't be so sure!" The grunt held out his Sidewinder for all to see, "This baby proved rather useful, didn't it?" The other conversationalist didn't respond besides a small snicker. Reefa shook her head at their conversation as she took to her weapons as well.

There wasn't much special about her G2A4 rifle. It had a match trigger and was entirely gunmetal-gray except for a slanted cyan stripe near the front, blue tape coating the grip, cheek rest, and she had a contact turn it into a bullpup design, which turned it into a G2A4-5. She spent so long looking at it that almost everyone else finished up, so she was forced to hurry and stuff away the magazines and her sidearm, a standard RE-45, and her Archer rocket launcher. She then looked toward her stryder, who extended its hand, and she jumped on, being placed inside the control center of her titan. She had a connection to her titan, MR-2201, and she managed to keep it through her career, though, with the massive amounts of scratches and scrapes across its hull, she'd have to check for damage after whatever Ozpin wanted get's done. Why wasn't she checking for damage now? She was plain sure there wasn't anything seriously done to MR. "Seeing as you have all gathered your equipment, please go to the cliffs for a trial, of sorts."

The soldiers nodded as they walked out of the large door at the back of the room they came in through, the titans ducking to get under it as they made their way to same cliff where they stood moments before.

* * *

They stood, facing the forest they fought in not even moments before. They gathered around and were discussing things quietly, exchanging information so everyone had the same level of knowledge. Most of it included information about Beacon and Remnant itself, and only two grunts seemed to know a good amount of details about the world they were on. How'd they get that information? While waiting for their turn to be 'interrogated', they had a large supply of history books they could read from, so the two grunts began flipping through the pages, stopping and reading anything interesting that caught their eye. They brought up a mineral called 'Dust', which all the grunts said was, 'It powers basically everything in this world. Including weapons.'

That was indeed strange, as they couldn't recall anything that could both act as a universal power source, and a weapon. Well, not a naturally occurring mineral, anyway. They learned of huntsmen and huntresses, what exactly they were. They also learned the types of Grimm. It was... Strange. The only thing they learned were the types, not where they came from or anything like that. It was frustrating. "Are you sure there is absolutely nothing else?" One grunt asked the two, who nodded.

"Nada. Either they expected you to know by now or they know next to nothing on their sworn enemies." The grunt responded, "However, it seems we are working together now, so, we should get names off the table, eh?" A grunt opened his mouth to reply before another voice interrupted.

"Which you will, once we start your trial." Ozpin appeared behind 'O'Malley', the Ogre Titan. "Now, I have calibrated some of the pads to compensate for the weight of the two mechs you have, they will be marked in red. Those in the mechs, one foot on each pad, please."

The Titans complied, positioning themselves with their weapons drawn. The grunts fell in on the remaining pads as well, checking their weapons but not entering any stance.

"You will be launched into the forest, and have to collect a chess piece, directly forward. If you don't know, we form teams at huntsmen academies, and so to complete this, the first person you lay your eyes on will be your partner." He paused to look at the soldiers, who had turned toward him, faces vying between shock and confusion.

"Now hold up, you're going to _launch_ us?! Like, straight into the air and expect us to miraculously survive?! I don't know if you know- You know what? Forget, sure, launch us! I don't-" There wasn't a chance to finish the sentence as he was sent flying, and soon almost everyone went except for the titans, who stood ready. There was a heavy screech, and suddenly, the several ton war machines were sent flying, the pads they were launched from broken and mangled from overuse.

* * *

A Militia Grunt didn't have time to scream as he was soon flying through the air, gripping his R101C tightly as he looked at the approaching treeline in terror. Breathing heavy, he tried to formulate a plan, and he came upon one. All grunts, even those in the IMC, were issued emergency jump-packs in the case that a Dropship wasn't immediately blown to bits from a hit. Having never used it, it took him a minute to find the red switch that was located on his left shoulder on his vest. He felt the jets flare as they desperately tried to slow his descent. It was barely enough as he rammed through the canopy and came to a skidding halt, badly shaken but still relatively fine. He was barely able to lift himself up, leaning on his rifle as he got up on shaky legs. The display showed he was going around a hundred kilometers an hour. He sincerely wished those displays showed in miles per hour, but he had to be thankful that the jets did their job and didn't splatter him against the ground. Now, however, it was useless, its small fuel supply spent trying to stop him. He got in a few shaky breaths as he stood up straighter, lifting his rifle and aiming at his surrounding environment. He was concerned, as he was absolutely sure he made a hell of a lot of noise on his impact. Lowering his rifle, he took a moment to brush sweat of his bronze forehead. Working on a variety of sunny worlds resulted in such a tan. Thinking it over, he took off his helmet and let his black hair fall in front of his eyes. Hastily fixing it, he sat back. He needed to recover before he continued, or he'd risk being too unsteady to fight. He spent a few minutes like that, just leaned against the tree as he caught his breath. That didn't last long, however, as he saw some bushes shake. His rifle instantly went up as he aimed to the bushes. A dark shape came out and he was ready to shoot, until he realized it was merely a cloak worn by someone only up to his chest. Her emerald eyes shot up at him, seemingly confused. She held her staff close as she cautiously approached.

"H-hi there sir! Can, can you tell me where I am, please?" Her high-pitched voice stuttered as she looked down the barrel, and she held her staff even closer to her. The staff seemed to be made of dark oak wood, and a purple marble that was caged near the top, the wood seemingly warped around it. "Your in..." The Grunt came to a blank as he forgot what the forest was named.

"Am I in Ylisse?" She asked, and the grunt shook his head. The girl looked down, "Oh." She looked up again, "Do you happen to know how to get there?"

The Grunt sighed, "Your in Vale, on the world of Remnant. From what I was able to glean from the books, there is no Ylisse. Do me a favor though, and tell me what you're doing so far out in a rather dangerous forest by yourself?"

"I was... Looking for someone! Yah!" She replied hastily, "I'm Shiilee! What's your name?"

"Matt." The grunt responded, lowering his weapon slightly, and only slightly. They both thought the same thing, however, _'What the hell kind of name is that?'_

"Well, I think I'll be off-" She turned, only to be met by a growl as three, as Matt now knew, Beowulves, stalked from the undergrowth. Shiilee stepped back, and raised her staff, "Arcfire!" She shouted, and much to Matt's surprise, the marble turned red, and a fire ball shot from the top, dousing the center-most beowulf with fire, which it promptly collapsed from, the fire eating away at it before the dark creature had a chance to dissolve. She dashed away as the left beowulf tried to lung at her, intent on ripping her apart. Matt took his turn, lifting his rifle and firing a burst into the beast, successfully turning its attention away. "Arcthunder!" A shout rang out, as both beowulves were consumed in what could only be described as a horizontal lightning strike, accompanied by a powerful clap of thunder. Matt stood frozen, ironic since his foes were turned to ash, and slowly twisted his head to look at Shiilee, who held her staff, the marble still glowing bright white. She lowered it, wiping a bit of sweat from her forehead. "What are those?" She muttered to herself, and making Matt realize she really wasn't from here. He didn't say anything, though.

Shiilee stood there, tapping her foot, frown adorning her face. It was soon replaced with a smile, however, and she raised her staff again, turning towards Matt, "Thanks!" She spoke quickly before facing forward again and shouting, "Teleport!" A ring appeared below her, and Matt's vision flashed white.

When he shook it off, the only reminder of the strange occurrence happening was the scorched trail her attack left. Shaking his head, he walked through the forest.

Then another interruption came in the form of a bullet whiz past, a hair-width away from his face, tearing down a tree as it impacted, followed by a 'Holy fuck!' as the Militia Grunt turned his head to face the IMC Grunt who shot at him. The Grunt's expression was hidden behind the sensor facemask all riflemen/snipers of the IMC wore. The Militiaman brought up his rifle, "Damnit! I'll kill you for that shit!"

"Hold on, hold on!" The IMC Grunt rolled to the left as the place where his head had been was riddled with lead, and resorted to taking cover behind a thick tree, "Thought you were one of those, uh, Grimm! Stop firing!" The response was bullets streaking by, forcing him back into cover. They continued like that for three minutes, before another voice cut in.

"Are you kidding me!" Then there was a thump and a groan, the IMC grunt freezing up as he felt a hand on his shoulder. Turning quick, he saw it was another grunt, bearing the whites and grays of the IMC. Matt took a glance out and saw a Militia grunt pushing off her comrade. She didn't have a helmet, instead sporting a baseball cap with goggles fixed atop. She also wasn't wearing the standard Militia uniform either. Instead, she wore a simple orange tee shirt, chestnut brown cargo pants, and tan combat boots, with a oak brown vest that did little to hide her moderate bust. She herself had an athletic frame, common among all soldiers that were in the fight, though she was incredibly pale, hazel eyes and warm brunette hair that reached midway down her back. That was strange, most women in combat roles tied their hair in ponytails or buns, while a good majority just cut it short. He remembered occasionally running into female grunts in the IMC, but it was much more common among the Militia it seemed. "What the hell Matt?! We aren't trying to kill each other anymore, it'd help if you'd stop trying!"

"You don't understand, Chelka! He shot first!" and like that, all eyes trained on Matt. Even the grunt next to him looked and backed away. Even if they couldn't see each others eyes, even faces for that matter, it was practically said ' _You fucked up, bad.'_

Chelka, _'What the hell kind of name is Chelka?'_ Took a step towards the grunt in question, who was poised in fight or flight mode. Before he could react, she was already in front of him in an almost inhumane feat of speed. Grabbing him tightly by the upper arms, she held him in place and was forced to look into the now darkened eyes, akin to a storm brewing. "Did you attempt to kill him?" She asked in a voice much too calm for Matt's liking.

Before he could respond, his mask was forcibly opened and the goggles moved away to reveal his eyes. The grunt, though he was terrified for his life, could notice a ghost of a smile forming on her features. "N-no! Of course not!" He stated firmly, though he stuttered as he failed to keep his voice level.

* * *

Chelka had a certain way to distinguish between lies and truths. She knew she was attractive, and learned quick on how to get the truth out of someone fast and with relative ease. She trained herself that way, practicing by going to bars and waiting for someone to stare for long enough to make it socially unacceptable. She'd then make her move, and she fine-tuned her snap between 'beauty' to 'I will rip your throat out before you can blink'. After years of experience, she had mastered it.

So as she stared down the Grunt who shot at one of her allies, she barely smiled at seeing the fear in his eyes. It had been awhile seen she used that look, but she was glad to know it had not faded away. So she let go. He was telling the truth, from her examination results at least. She had taken many a course on being able to distinguish if someone was lying.

He looked relieved at this, while Matt still looked ready to kill him. She would pay mind to that later. She turned back to their new ally, who looked ready to run. She put on her best smile, and clapped her hands on his arms again, once again holding him in place, and then stating loudly, "Introductions are in order! If you don't know already, I'm Chelka! The man you almost shot is Matt, and my partner that hasn't said a single word so far is, uh... Actually, what is your name?" She turned to look at her partner, who had his Hemlock leveled to the forest. He made a series of hand gestures she didn't understand, and the grunt she had a hold of sighed, "Stop fucking about John, a good portion of us know you can't speak sign language."

"Well when you fucking say it I can't!" John turned to shoot a glare that carried through the facemasks they wore.

"That makes no fucking sense!" The other shot back, before turning to Chelka, "My name is Aron, and if you could please let me go, that'd be fan-fucking-tastic."

"I seriously don't approve of you two using such foul language." Chelka gave a look between the two of them, and she presently gripped Aron's arms even tighter before letting go, no doubt that she left his arms in pain. She drew her R-97 SMG and walked off in the opposite direction they were launched from.

* * *

It took a few minutes and minimal threats to get to the ruins. Undoubtedly they were more interested in the decrepit place than the pieces they were there for, exploring the old area to find any secrets.

"Here's a suspicious looking rock!" Aaron, who they soon realized was a smartass and a half, sarcastically pointed out, gesturing to a rather smooth rock.

"Har Har. Good job finding that. What would we ever do without your cynicism and 'charming' sarcasm?" Matt shot, roughly pushing the IMC soldier out of the way as he crouched to pick the rock up. He had to use both hands to pick up the smooth stone, only to tug unsuccessfully on it. He scowled, "Must be one of those rocks that are much larger underneath the earth."

Chelka sighed. More than likely, she'd have to deal with these two at each other's throats. Her job was made easier, however, as she knew Matt rather well. She can possibly arrange something with him. The problem would be Aaron, who she barely knew anything about besides him currently being a smartass. John should come in handy, though. They seemed to know each other quite well.

Chelka sighed, pushing off the pillar she was leaning against, heading to the podiums that held chess pieces of different colors and roles. She drifted to the pawns. The pawn was one of the most fundamental pieces in the game, and the most numerous piece as well. It also came at the lowest price due to having so many. Lose them all, however, and you are fighting a hard battle. White was chosen, despite it being the color of her former enemy. Her reasoning was that of weight. Yes, it was the color of an oppressive corporation, but it also represented faith, goodwill, and overall is associated with that which is good. Morals she hoped to bring to the Frontier with her enrollment in the Militia. She looked to John, a frown adorning her face from her thoughts, holding the piece. "What do you think John?" She asked, extending it slightly to him. John turned from examining his Hemlock, giving a single glance before turning back, "Undoubtedly, Ozpin seems like a man who would place some type of symbolism on these things, but I frankly don't care, pick what you want. You'll make the right choice."

Damn, she didn't think he'd say that much. She pocketed the pawn and looked to the other two with them, who were still bickering. "Guys. Pick a piece so we can go back."

They nodded, and walked their way over to the pedestal, where they were strangely quiet as they looked upon their selection. Matt picked up one, and it was hard to tell what it was. He held it high, and it was a... Tower? She forgot the name for them. He held it high and began sprouting out on how they were protectors of the light or something like that. After that, he pocketed it and moved on, about to leave until tremendous racket arose from the treeline. Suddenly, one of the red leaved trees tore into the open, flying like a javelin.

Everyone leaped out of the way as it ripped through the ringed circle, destroying all but a quarter of it. They raised their weapons as the Stryder stumbled back, before dashing to the side as a Grimm tore through, letting out an echoing roar.

* * *

 **Hey guys! Sorry for such a long time of no updates. I admit, I procrastinated quite a bit on my part, and school made it easy to do so, but I improved the word count to about 5k words now, so yeah.**


	4. It's not Dead!

**Hey guys! A quick notification and update.**

 **NO! The story is not dead. Chapter III is underway and can be expected. There is also a new side-addition to the series. The Metro franchise can be expected to be added. While it will be the most expansive addition to date (I am throwing the entirety of Moscow and the metro within Atlas territory in the North.) it will not be pivotal to the plot. It's more of a sidestory that will be created in about the fourth or fifth installment of the series, about four years after this current book, if you want a timeframe.**

 **I'm also considering bringing on some people to help me create this series and fine-tune it, also get some insights on what will happen. If you're interested, say so in the reviews or PM me!**


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